At First
by Merina Thropp
Summary: Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Now it's all over, Nessarose recalls how it all began. Those early Shiz years. And Boq...always Boq. Onesided Bessa.


**As some of you may know (coughHedwig466cough!), I did a lot of exploring of Boq's character/journey throughout the musical/book for a Twitter role-play last year…and it got me thinking not only about Boq's journey, but Nessa's too. How her love/obsession with Boq blossomed so quickly and strongly in the musical was also something I always wondered about; how a person can get so stuck in a single moment, like she did…**

**Now, usually, I'm not the biggest fan of tackling the oh-so-insanely-complicated-and-slightly-creepy-at-times Bessa relationship, as you all know…but I've had this piece typed out for a while now, and I thought it was high time I posted it.**

**This is my take on Nessa and Boq's characters, inspired by the actors/actresses I have seen portray them live. I have a tendency for writing a rather sad Boq, and a onesided spoilt-child Nessa…so I've tried to give them both more depth, in this. And attempt a sort of second-person POV…enjoy!**

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><p><em>Hindsight is a wonderful thing.<br>- __David Beckham_

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><p>If only I had known, back then, back in the beginning, how it was all going to end. Where it would all lead to, someday. If only I could have made myself see sense. If only <em>you<em> could have seen sense.

But you couldn't. You wouldn't. You didn't.

Of course…you didn't.

And now it's too late.

* * *

><p>I remember how it was at first.<p>

How it was, back in the very, very beginning.

I didn't know you well. Barely knew you at all, really. Oh, I had seen you pass me by from time to time in the corridors, a blue-and-white blur amongst the other students; always a little overwhelmed, a little buried by their superior height. But I didn't really, truly _know _you.

I remember you sitting just in front of me in Doctor Dillamond's class. I remember thinking how much smaller and quieter you seemed than the other rowdy boys – brow furrowed in concentration, so determinedly focussed on your work. You asked a question, once, about the Great Drought – I remember my sister's incensed expression and flashing eyes when you stammered out the possibility of the Animals maybe being the cause of it. I remember hearing your name, 'Boq', yelled across the dining hall by Avaric. I remember wondering, errantly, at how tall you were for a Munchkin…

I remember seeing you calling, chasing, flitting so often around _her._

* * *

><p>I remember the day Fiyero Tiggular came to Shiz. Elphaba wheeled me out into the grounds so I might read in the sunlight. Such a beautiful, bright spring day, that was. I settled myself with that new book on ancient Uninionist Ministers' Letters that Professor Nikidick had instructed us all to read by the end of the week, losing myself amongst its pages…and then, suddenly, you were there.<p>

I remember recognizing you; the shy little Munchkin, from Doctor Dillamond's class. I remember your face, so open and ready and hopeful as you gazed down at me, and yet distracted, too, somehow – and your voice, so unusually high for a schoolboy, as you spoke those first words to me.

"_Excuse me, um, Miss Nessarose? Please, may I ask you something?_"

I remember that first, fluttery little swoop, deep in my chest, as you smiled down at me and set about wheeling us both back towards the front doors, head turned away over your shoulder, nodding as though to a captain or commander…

I thought nothing of it, then. I was far too distracted. My heart pounded, my palms clasped and sweating – I knew, of course, this Winkie prince was planning some sort of 'do' down at the Ozdust Ballroom, and oh, how desperately I had hoped I might be able to go, somehow…now, with your greeting words ringing in my ears, it truly seemed possible.

You asked me so gently, so graciously. Taking my hand in yours, stammering over your words in the sweetest way. I remember my own answer – cheeks flushed to a rosy glow, smile emblazoned across my face, barely able to believe my luck as I murmured the 'yes' I had dreamed of giving to a boy for so long, now…

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><p>I remember how butterflies invaded my stomach for almost the entire of the rest of that afternoon, and much of the evening, too. I remember how furious – childishly so – I was at Elphaba for arriving so late to help me dress for the party in new, creamy, pale pink ruffles. I remember stamping my foot and beating my wheelchair arms in fury and frustration when my hair became tangled with the pins and stuck up with static from my shawl – and the calm, obedient reassurance and help again from my sister that followed.<p>

I remember gazing at myself in the mirror and thinking how true it was, what everyone always said. How beautiful I looked. Tragically so, yes, but still…beautiful.

I remember begging Elphaba to tell me so, and she did. Many, many times.

* * *

><p>I remember you arriving early to pick me up. The little mock-bow you gave me upon arrival, driven by nerves, and the giggles I let lose in response. You were so silly, yet still so sweet, too.<p>

You wheeled me with such caution, such care; through the crowds of excited students, the cobbled streets of the town, the flashing, winking doors of the Ozdust ballroom. I remember feeling my mouth drop open in wonder at the rush and splendour of it all. I remember laughing again, breathless with excitement, and you laughing with me…

* * *

><p>I remember sitting by the side of the dance floor inside the Ozdust ballroom, the minutes dragging by slower than I ever could have imagined…watching you watch <em>her. <em>I remember seeing, for the first time, what _she _was wearing. Creamy pink ruffles. Near identical – and yet so much more delicate and fashionable on _her _perfect, curving body – to mine.

I remember the jealousy raging like a monster, deep in the pit of my stomach, as I watched you watch _her _dance with the laughing, flirting Winkie prince I had heard so many scandalous rumours about. I remember feeling all the gratitude, all the warmth I had harboured towards _her _for what she had done for me, for us, washing away under the burn of that new emotion.

I remember drinking punch. It tasted sour, like underripe blackberries. I remember watching you drink sip yours, every fifteen minutes or so. Noticing how baby-blue your eyes were, how you kept straightening your too-large jacket and smoothing your hopeless tufts of brown hair. Thinking what a truly adorable gesture it was. Trying to make conversation. Failing.

Feeling the butterflies crawl into my stomach again. The worry coil into a lump in my throat. The tears begin to sting in my eyes.

And then, the moment that changed it all.

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><p>Your face, so torn and desperate as it turned to mine. The way you bent to me, took my hand again – so gently, so caringly – and murmured to me…<p>

"_Listen, Miss Nessarose…Nessa…there is something I must tell you, I'm afraid, about…well, about the reason why I asked you here tonight…_"

I remember the moment of confusion – me thinking one thing, you another – and then…then the revelation.

"_Because…because…oh, Miss Nessarose…because you are so beautiful!_"

Oh, how wonderful a moment that was. Seeing your face twisted with so many confused emotions – but emotions I could and did take so entirely and utterly the wrong way.

You had called me beautiful. You had as good as admitted true, real feelings for me, feelings I had longed to be the object of for so long, now…

You must be, must be, _must be_ the boy for me.

_Boq_. The name was so unusual, and you so new and different. Words tumbled from my lips – words I never should have spoken – a mess of soppy admissions and pleas. I couldn't stop them. I wanted you to understand – wanted to stop that mess of confusion and mingling panic roaming across your face as you gazed at me. I wanted you to know how certain I was that this was it, this was meant to be, this was our chance, our chance together…

That we, above all else, deserved each other.

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><p>I remember taking your hand. I remember wishing you would stop glancing over your shoulder at one Winkie prince and his golden-haired catch, far across the ballroom from us.<p>

And then you were turning back to me, and your face was suddenly alight with an idea.

"_Let's dance – Miss Nessarose, let's dance!_"

Dance. The word was a needle against my heart, a vicious punch in the chest. _Dance. _Something I, in my wretched condition, could never do. Never.

But you made it possible.

You took my handlebars and wheeled me out on to the dance floor, and before I knew it, we were whirling, flying…dancing…and in the silliest, strangest, most wonderful way I could ever have dreamed of. My face burned from embarrassment, the students pointing and staring, but you didn't falter, not once. After all, _she _was beaming at us both from across the dance floor, her Winkie prince amused and chuckling by her side.

I remember noticing so many things about you, during that dance. How the lights reflected off your pitifully out-of-date gold suit as we span. How your eyes creased and your round face dimpled just a touch as you smiled down at me. How warm your hand was when it touched mine; tender, secure and comforting.

I remember you laughing again, as we whirled. I remember laughing with you, for the sheer joy of it, living for the moment. A moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. Bliss I was sharing with you.

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><p>Oh, my sister ruined everything, of course, just like always – bursting in on my happy evening at the worst possible moment – but this time…this time it wasn't so bad. <em>She <em>made it all right, and once again I found myself indebted to her; the saint, the _angel _of a girl she always was…

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><p>You wheeled me home in silence, whilst I chattered. I remember telling you everything, blabbering away about myself, about anything I could think of. I remember holding your hand, again, twining my fingers tight through yours so you wouldn't pull away. Forcing myself to believe that you could push me home safely one-handed.<p>

I remember how flushed both our faces were again, by the time we reached Madam Morrible's quarters. Thoughts of first-kisses and all the romance novels I had ever read filled my mind to the brim. I was trembling by the time you stepped away from me to open the door to my bedroom, wheel me through…turn to murmur your polite 'goodnight, Miss Nessarose'.

I remember clinging to your hand, not wanting to let go. I remember seeing you pause, and struggle for a moment, biting your lip, glancing over your shoulder. I remember hoping suddenly, cruelly, that your respectfulness and sincerity would play well for me, here – that you would feel an obligation to bid me a more intimate goodnight, after the evening we had shared together.

I remember tightening my grip on your hand. Longing. Wishing. Daring to hope.

You bit your lip so hard I was worried it might draw blood – but then you sighed, closed your eyes a moment, met me with a steady gaze, and bent to kiss my cheek.

I remember smiling. Exultant. Triumphant. Living for the moment, once again.

By the time you had scurried away back to your own dorm room, and Elphaba had arrived back to tuck me up in bed, I was fully and utterly decided.

You were the one for me. I would have no one else, _no one else. _We would be together. You would love me, I would love you.

We deserved each other.

There was nothing more to it.

* * *

><p>Days passed slowly, after that. I remember catching your hand as we entered Doctor Dillamond's first morning lesson; pulling you close. You would sit with me today.<p>

I remember your face creasing with worry; your anxious glances across the room towards _her…_and then, in the opposite direction, towards Elphaba, as though scared she would disapprove. I remember laughing at that, at the silliness of it. Knowing my sister would never dare to interfere with anything, _anything _that contributed to my perfect happiness. Anything that I set my heart on…and I had set my heart most firmly on you. Father would approve, of course, because you were something I wanted. And Father always, _always_ gave his favourite daughter what she wanted.

I followed you to every one of your lessons, all that day. You listened obediently to my chatter, my complaints about the weather, my bitter insults against Professor Nikidick and the staggering piles of homework he had set me. You wheeled me where I asked, and carried my books dutifully when I mentioned how weak my arms had always been.

You were very quiet, I noticed, but that did not matter. You were with me. My hand was around yours. The whole school had seen it – I knew the implications of that better than you ever could have.

And you would come around. You would.

Everything…_everything_…would be just fine.

* * *

><p>Weeks passed.<p>

I remember simple annoyance, and then frustration, when you first began to avoid me. I remember complaining to Elphaba, ordering that she seek you out. She began to bring you before me each morning before lessons, so I might have you by my side for the rest of the day.

I remember your cold face, your detached mumbles of conversation…how very many times you seemed to need the toilet. I would lose you. You would slip away into the crowds of students, and I would panic and cry out for Elphaba and she would submit to helping me find you again.

You were too polite, too much of a gentleman – and far, far too much of a coward – to tell me the truth. I was too panic-stricken at your behaviour, too frantic to find out the reason behind it, too infatuated beyond return, to _guess_ the truth.

I remember the hide-and-seek games that followed. The stony silences and clenched hand-holds that always came when the game ended.

I remember bribing Avaric with my best spiderpearl necklace in exchange for a copy of your weekly timetable, so I could memorize it and seek you out accordingly. You would not get away from me, you simply _would not. _I was determined.

I had long since sketched your name across the front pages of all my textbooks, written you a Valentines' Day card, made sure to sleep every night with your photograph under my pillow…but now, I began to make other plans. I wrote to Father about you. I arranged for you to come back home with me for the Lurinemas holidays. I sent for an employment form from the Thropp household, stamped and signed it myself. You would work as my own personal assistant when we returned to Munchkinland, after our Shiz years were over. I had arranged everything. Now, there was nothing left to do but wait.

And somehow keep you by my side, no matter what the cost, until term ended.

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><p>I remember not worrying in the slightest when Elphaba received her crisp green and gold decorated summon from the Wizard. I remember being happy for her. Resentful, yes, just a little, that I would have to fend for myself whilst she was gone…but I would have you, of course. And it was just for one short day.<p>

* * *

><p>I remember you had a little upset on the train platform, that day.<p>

"_It's Boq, Miss Galinda, Boq! And I can't do this – I can't do this anymore!_"

Oh, your words stung. Stung like nettles, like wasps. My heart felt as though it had been crushed in that single moment by only them. That instant was one I would never forget. One of such terror, such dread, such suffocating insecurity…

…and yet, a sense of relief was there, also.

Now, I had the perfect new excuse to make to myself for your cold, distant nature with me as things stood. I was flawed, imperfect; a cripple in a wheelchair. That was it. All I had to do was prove myself to you, make up somehow for my defects, my _imperfections…_and you would love me as desperately, as fanatically as I loved you. Yes, that was it. That was it.

* * *

><p>I remember how well you hid from me, that day. I had no Elphaba to seek you out, for me – I had to wheel myself alone, up and down corridors, over ramps and up slopes by my own hands. Still, you were nowhere to be seen.<p>

Avaric was beyond bribery, now. He laughed at my pleas and offers of more jewellery to check the boys' toilets for me, and only mocked me when I began to cry bitterly. I wheeled myself up to Madam Morrible's quarters, and sobbed myself to sleep, dreams of imperfections and insecurities, of your face as you had spoken those stinging last words to me…

…of the way you had beamed down at me in the Ozdust Ballroom as we 'danced' together, and of how you had held my hand…called me beautiful…kissed my cheek softly goodnight…

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><p>When I awoke the next morning, I lost all patience. I found you cowering in the boys' toilets on the top floor, breakfast toast wrapped in a napkin on your lap. And I remember…I had never been more furious in my life.<p>

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><p>I wasn't really angry with you, of course. No. I was angry with <em>me. <em>

Because I wasn't the girl you wanted. Wasn't the perfect blonde you so obviously saw in _her. _Because I wanted you so badly, and yet still, somehow, didn't quite have you, despite all I had done.

Because you were something Father could never buy me, something Elphaba could never conger up with one of her chants, something not one of my servants could ever fetch me from a cupboard or bring me up from the bakery or dress shop.

You were unreachable. Even pinned to my side as I forced you to be for the rest of that long, long, long week…you were as still as far away as could be.

I hated myself, you, the world, for it.

* * *

><p>If only I had known, back then, back in the beginning, how it was all going to end – where it would all lead to, someday. If only I could have made myself see sense. If only <em>you<em> could have seen sense.

* * *

><p>I remember how it was at first.<p>

How it was…back in the very, very beginning.

Yes, I remember. I remember. But there is nothing I can do to change it.

* * *

><p>And now it's too late.<p> 


End file.
